Sacrifice
by Rex Tims
Summary: Arriving home after his fifth year, Harry knows what he has to do and, for once, it's not fight, but something else he's morbidly familiar with.
1. Rituals

Harry stared longingly out of his window. Memories kept replaying in his head: Sirius falling through the veil; Hermione laying deathly still; Trelawney's hollow voice reciting the prophecy.

That damned prophecy.

He knew what it implied, even if Dumbledore hadn't told him. '_Neither can live while the other survives._' No, he knew what it meant, because Hermione had spent years trying to figure out what the diary was and when she told him what she thought it was, his hand reflexively rubbed his scar.

It was obvious in hindsight that his cursed scar was more than just a cursed scar. How could he have gained abilities like Parseltongue if it was ordinary? No, he had a fragment of a soul stuck in his head and so until it was gone Voldemort wouldn't be able to die.

Dumbledore had told him that his supposed power Voldemort lacked was love, but Harry knew that was wishful thinking. True it had stopped the possession, but that's all it was good for, except maybe casting a Patronus and he doubted that would be much use in killing Voldemort.

No, what he knew to be his power that Voldemort would never be able to comprehend nor use was his ability to embrace death. It wasn't a hard decision really, because the fragment of a soul in his head had to go and the only known methods rendered the container useless, not to mention that now Voldemort could act openly people would start dying.

If his death would save more lives than he could imagine, there was no way he would avoid or delay it. Even now he was waiting for the change of the guard as he didn't want Moody bursting in to stop it.

Already he had several letters written out and Hedwig knew what to do with them. One to Hermione, sharing what he knew his scar to be and how thankful he was for all her help over the years; one to Ron and Ginny, summarising what he knew and thanked them and their family for being so accepting; one to Neville, thanking him for going to the Ministry and encouraging him to be as brave as he was that night; one to Luna, also thanking her for going to the Ministry and encouraging her to stand up for herself as she did for her friends; one to Moony, detailing what he knew and asking him to stay strong despite being alone; one to Hagrid, saying goodbye and asking him to care for Hedwig; finally one to Dumbledore, detailing everything he knew and his reasoning for what he was doing. Lastly... lastly he wrote one to Sirius, because if there was... if there was any hope, Hedwig would find him or at least do her best to.

He caught the changing of the guards in the corner of his eye, a rustling bush giving way to a slight distortion before settling down again.

With a resigned sigh, he started what he wanted to do. His bed was pushed against the wall and his trunk opened on top of it. Using ink, he enlarged a ruin for "Sacrifice" onto his floor before filling the central gap with one for "Retribution" as both were the most fitting for what he was doing. He didn't know much about Runes, but from a little reading Ancient Egyptian seemed the best for what he wanted to do and it couldn't hurt to include them.

Awaiting the drying, he began to filter his trunk, piling up everything of importance. It was far from sure, but anything he could to do to help he would do.

A good fifteen or so minutes later, he began to arrange the items around the runes. In the centre, he placed a fragment of a basilisk's tooth, it being the only thing he knew capable. Around the outside, he placed his Firebolt, the album Hagrid made of his parents, his cloak of invisibility, his wand, the Marauder's Map, the shattered two-way mirror and the gifted penknife.

It seemed right to him that four of the seven items were linked to his beloved Godfather, three to his father, one to his mother and one to the monster who took them all from him.

Sitting in the middle, holding the fang in his hand, he watched the digital clock slowly approach midnight. As it struck, he began to chant the words he had made up, having carefully chosen the wording to hopefully accomplish everything he wanted it to do, because he knew how truly important intent was to all magic.

'To magic, I offer you everything I have. I give you my most prized possessions, my life, my soul, my own magic and anything else of mine you wish to take. I spill my blood in hope that you will hear my prayer and remove the blight that is Tom Marvolo Riddle from the world, that you judge his soul find him wanting. As my mother did before me, I offer you my life in return for the protection of those I love. To magic, I ask all this and offer all I have, so mote it be.'

Breathing in, he plunged the fang into his skull as punctuation to his request, the acute tooth slicing through the scarred flesh. Already he felt the world pulling away, but the moment the first drop of blood hit the floor, a dazzling light pulled him back as the runes ignited.

His consciousness was roughly tossed across the country to beneath a small shack where a ring exploded in a small ball of righteous flames. Again he was manhandled, this time to Grimmauld Place where the displayed locket repeated the ring's action. Next was down into the depths of Gringotts where a golden cup became inflamed. Then into the bowels of Hogwarts and an unfamiliar room laden with miscellaneous goods including a burning diadem. After, he was returned to his room where he felt himself spontaneously combust.

Only, rather than pain, it was soothing, like phoenix song.

Then he came to a manor where a snake writhed upon the floor, tendrils strangling it. His thoughts were shoved across the manor to a room with a throne wrought in the centre of a grand room. Seated was Voldemort, though once he arrived Voldemort began screaming as the same flames sprang forth.

A smile crept upon his lips as he shot back to his room, his body collapsing back onto the floor. Upon his forehead, either side of the lightning bolt and fang, were a cow's head and a crossed crook and flail, burning white.

Beneath his still body, the ink continued glowing as the light crept upon his offerings. Slowly, the map melted into the floor along with the shards of the mirror and his wand while tongues of magic lapped at the others, leaving glowing marks that matched the new ones on his forehead.

Then, slowly, the glow subsided, leaving the room in darkness.

Hedwig dropped down from her perch, nuzzling her master and affectionately nipping his ear before carrying her burden through the window and into the darkness, sounding out a morbid bark as she did so.

In the darkness he lay, deathly still, with a smile upon his face.


	2. Travel

Hedwig soared across the country, flying with all the speed she could muster. Her first stop was a quaint house in Crawley where she tapped upon an upper-story window. A groggy girl with bleary eyes stared through at Hedwig for a few seconds before a muffled exclamation of, 'Hedwig?' seeped through.

The owl bobbed her head and the girl opened the window, letting in her midnight guest.

'What are you doing here Hedwig? Harry's not supposed to write to us – is everything okay?' she asked with noticeably growing concern.

Hedwig offered her leg, which brought Hermione to untying her own letter and showing surprise at the quantity of deliveries Hedwig still had to make. '_To Hermione, open at 7am,_' read the front of her letter.

Frowning, she muttered, 'He must know I won't be able to sleep while I haven't opened it, the prat,' with the smile on her lips betraying the affection behind the hollow insult.

In defence of her master, Hedwig offered a short, sharp bark.

'Sorry girl,' Hermione said instinctively before adding, 'He's going to have you worn out delivering all these letters, isn't he? I wonder what he's up to…'

The owl in question could spare no longer, so with a few beats of her wings she escaped back into the night, sounding a melancholy bark that chilled Hermione to the bone as she closed her window.

Longer this time, nearing half an hour rather than the previous five or so minutes, was her journey before she settled on a windowsill and pecked at the glass. It was a tall house, unnaturally structured. Hedwig was patient in her waiting, as it was nearly three minutes before the snoring ceased and the scowling boy shoved open the window, nearly knocking Hedwig off in the process.

'What's that git doing sending me a letter now?' he grumbled, practically yanking her leg off in the process of retrieving said letter, with a similar time-based opening message, not that Ron bothered to read it as he tossed it on his bedside table and let out the first snore before hitting his pillow.

Hedwig barked outrageously before accepting that it was at least delivered and moved onto her next recipient who was luckily very nearby. It was half a minute later that she landed in the garden beside a building that greatly resembled the tower of a castle and, more specifically, she landed upon the bench beside a teary-eyed girl.

'Good night Hedwig,' she sombrely said, scratching the owl affectionately. 'It's so sad, isn't it?' she added as her eyes glazed when her fingertips came in contact with the letter. 'I should wake up daddy, he will want to print as soon as possible, people will want to know, they'll want to celebrate.'

Nuzzling lightly against Luna's leg, Hedwig barked a harsh, broken bark.

A tear ran down her cheek as she replied, 'Yes, Hedwig, I'll be fine.'

With a final nip on Luna's finger, Hedwig departed once more, aiming North with a touch of West as she flew faster than she ought to be able to. Just shy of an hour later, her wings slowed outside a decrepit house that looked as though it could use a good soaking in soapy water. Her beak scratched and tapped at the window as she held her position as best she could with no perch.

Luckily it was not long before the window opened, revealing a thoroughly ragged man who looked as though he had gone a few rounds with both a bear and beer as he stumbled lightly while trying to focus on the owl.

'H-Hedwig?' he asked, moving back as Hedwig entered. She settled on the bed and offered her post. It took him a couple of attempts, but Remus managed to retrieve his mail and frown as he read the opening time.

Once he placed it down, apparently forgetting about her as he collapsed back onto the bed, she darted out the window and flew further North with a bit more West. An hour later, she settled on the balcony of a rather large and elegant manor.

A tap-tapping sound drew the boy beyond the glass from his slumber and he clumsily fumbled the handle until the door glided open. 'Hedwig?' he half-asked half-stated as he looked upon the snowy white owl in front of him.

Hedwig gave a concise bark in reply.

'Erm, did you want some water, or something to eat?' he asked, unnerved by the large, amber eyes, but Hedwig simply offered her leg. 'Oh, Harry sent me a letter? Bit strange to deliver it now; guess he didn't know how far away I was,' he mumbled, delicate in his unravelling of the string to claim his message.

Like Hermione's, it read, '_To Neville, open at 7am,_' on its front and, with a shrug, he placed it down.

'Odd, maybe it's just not important but he could only send it now?' Neville mused as Hedwig made her escape.

She had three more deliveries to make, though already knew she only had two as with the third she would be unable to succeed. Near due North she flew, riding high in the cool dark sky with the wind aiding her flight.

A bit over four hours later, she dropped down upon the top step and pecked at the wooden door. It was quieter than she would have liked, but stirring beyond kept her going until it creaked open to reveal a large man and cowering dog.

''Edwig? What yer doin' 'ere?' he asked, so Hedwig offered her leg and from it he took his letter while muttering, 'Strange, wha's 'Arry writin' to me for? 'e's not in any trouble, is he?'

'_To Hagrid, open at 7am,_' was printed upon the front.

'Guess I'll find out a bi' later, ta 'Edwig,' Hagrid said, ending with a yawn.

The final leg of her journey was short, simply up from the Grounds-keeper's hut to an office in a tower. She glided in through the opening meant for her and she landed on the central desk.

Behind the desk, the elderly man glared. 'I told Harry he wasn't to use his owl otherwise he risks leading the enemy straight to his front-door.'

Hedwig gave an indignant bark before shallowly offering her leg.

'"To Dumbledore, open at seven am," how interesting,' Dumbledore read aloud. 'I wonder what he could possibly produce that is time sensitive… No, there is naught but information here which he wishes to control.'

His fingers slipped to letter opener, but as he went to begin Hedwig barked again, louder and more irate. A moment to glower at the owl and he returned to what he was doing, leaving Hedwig to continue her angry barking while leaving.

She wasn't sure what was happening as she tried to the deliver the last letter, because her magic wasn't granting her enough intelligence to realise that she was becoming smarter to decide what to do with it.

'_To Sirius,_' the address read, but she knew that the intended Sirius no longer existed, that he was dead, because her master had certainly shed enough tears in her presence to prove that fact.

So, she had to try and find someone who would fill the role of Sirius, either through their relation to Harry or their relation to Sirius. She knew that there was only one who her master could view like he did his Godfather, but Remus was currently in no state to accept that responsibility, something she instinctively knew without reasoning it.

Her magic attempted to find blood-matches to Sirius who she personally knew and, through luck, one matched and the magical signature she followed was nearby in the town of Hogsmeade.

She adjusted her course to the town, having already overshot it. Settling down on a windowsill, she tapped the glass. A small crash of a body falling out of bed sounded moments later before the window carefully opened.

'Wotcher owl, who's been writing to little old me?' the girl cheerily asked, though it didn't extend to her eyes, her bubble-gum pink hair in a bizarre style reminiscent of a Christmas cracker with two spikey pigtails either side of her head.

Hedwig barked short and quietly, hoping to communicate her tale, but Nymphadora looked back blankly.

'I'm afraid I don't speak owl,' she cheekily said, niggling the letter free. 'Er, you sure you came to the right person?' she asked, her voice cracking slightly as she read the address.

Leaning forwards, Hedwig nuzzled Nymphadora's arm, offering a supportive bark.

'W-well, if you're sure,' Nymphadora muttered, very slowly peeling open the envelope.


	3. Hermione

Hermione joined her parents for an early breakfast. They looked at her a little oddly, especially as she kept glancing between a letter addressed to her and the clock.

Eventually, her mother, Emma Granger, cracked and asked, 'Dear, is something the matter?'

As though caught with her hands in the cookie jar, Hermione blushed. 'Sorry, it's just Harry sent me a letter last night and I'm only supposed to open it at seven.'

Emma laughed lightly, hiding it behind her hand as her mind wandered back to the sort of notes she would receive in the middle of the night from boys. Her husband, Dan, shifted his odd look to her, but she was certainly not going to clue her overprotective husband in.

Hermione, for her part, missed it all as she alternated between a mouthful of buttered toast, looking at the clock and looking at the letter.

Then, in the hall, the grandfather clock struck seven and she pounced upon it.

'_Dear Hermione,_

'_Dear dear Hermione, truly the most amazing witch ever alive. You're utterly amazing, did you know that? Really indescribably amazing – no other word will do. Honestly, you are. I loved you so much, though I don't know if it was in the romantic sense, but at the least I loved you like the big sister I never had, who always kept me out of (most) trouble and helped me be the best person I could be. You're beautiful too, gorgeous, even if you don't think you are. Everyone else thinks it, ever since the Yule ball. Merlin, even Fleur was jealous of you that night – not me though, I was happy you finally realised you were beautiful. Then again, I'm not one to talk since I only realised a week after my name came out of that bloody goblet._

'_I don't even know why I did. Nothing changed really, but I guess it was that little more time we had together. The way you would nibble on your lip when you had a tough problem or how you'd swipe aside your fringe like a cat swipes a loose bit of thread or how you'd wriggle your nose before you sneezed. Really though, as embarrassed as I am to say it, I properly realised you were a girl when you hugged me and told me it would be okay after I crashed that week. In my defence, I'd like to blame teenage hormones, but, well, it's all your fault for being such an attractive witch._

'_Eh, I just read that back and I'm quite far off topic (and that was a terribly cheesy cat metaphor.) I'm not sure of the best way to say what I want to, or if there even is, so I'll just say it: I'm going to kill myself._

'_No, that's not quite right in two ways. First of all, it's a bit too blunt, there's more it than just that, I promise. But secondly, I've probably already killed myself, so no mad dashes across the country to save me. Hedwig is only going to deliver this once I've done it, so since I didn't stop her from sending it, I'm either dead or unconscious, nearly certainly the former._

'_I guess I should start at the beginning. Remember the diary in second year and all your research? Well, I've got a soul shard in my head. It's not me being dense or stupid, it's how it is. My own little reading on the side made it quite clear that genetic magical abilities, like Parseltongue, can only be shared if there is a fragment of a soul present and I made use of the soul detection charm you uncovered._

'_Then Dumbledore told me about a stupid prophecy I should've known about years ago. You can bother him if you want to hear all of it, but the important bit is, "Neither can live while the other survives," which doesn't make the best of sense, but whoever said Divination made any sense? I've boiled it down to basically, "As long as Voldie's around, my life's gonna be crap," only with the added condition that at least one of us has to die since he'll always be around in my head otherwise._

'_So that's the why. The how is that I'm going to sacrifice my life and all my treasured possessions in a ritual. Best case, I live and Voldie along with all his soul shards die; worst case, I die and that's it. I've put a bit of effort into it: I'm using Ancient Egyptian runes for Sacrifice and Retribution and I'm offering seven items. Oh and I'll be asking magic to take my life in return for protecting my loved ones, like my mum did, so hopefully you'll be good for an Avada Kedavra, but please don't test it out – I'd rather not see you again for a long time (which I mean in the best way possible.)_

'_I've sent out a few other letters, but you probably saw them since Hedwig should be coming to you first. Ron and Ginny, Luna, Neville, Hagrid, Dumbledore, Moony and Padfoot (if he's out there, Hedwig will find him) will be getting one. Please try and help Luna stand up for herself and help Neville get some confidence – I owe both of them a lot for their help and I'm leaving it up to you since I know I can trust you. Moony's probably gonna be a wreck, but I don't think anyone will be able to help him, so maybe leave him to Arthur. Hagrid, well, just make sure you keep visiting him (I've also asked him to keep Hedwig – I would've asked you to, but I think he needs her more than you right now.) As for Dumbledore, I've got more than a few issues with him, but I've told him in the letter that I'll forgive him if I don't off Voldie and he does. If I did take Voldie with me or Dumbledore doesn't take care of Voldie, then I trust you to continually glare at him during meals, attempt to steal his Lemon Drops whenever you're in his office (though I doubt you will be without me getting you in trouble) and doing anything else to fight the system._

'_Lastly, I just want to thank you for being you. Merlin knows I needed a considerate and encouraging (you're definitely not a "bossy know-it-all" no matter what people say) girl to keep me on the straight and narrow. My advice to you is to never settle for anyone or anything below what you're worth and you're worth a lot more than you think you are. Any guy would be lucky to snag you (with your permission of course) because you truly are amazing. If you haven't realised how amazing you are, then I'm just going to make it my last request for you to accept it and there's no way you're going to deny my dying wish, are you?_

'_There we go, I've got you smiling again, haven't I? Thanks for everything Hermione. For five years you've been my rock and I can only hope you forgive me for doing what I truly believe to be the right thing to do._

'_Love, with all my heart, Harry "Just Harry" Potter._

'_P.S. I added you to my will before we left Hogwarts – I know it won't replace me, but you can do a lot of good with it, I know you will (pardon the pun.)_

'_P.P.S I nearly forgot, never push away your family. Take it from someone who has never had his parents to tell him that they love him that __nothing__ is worth losing anyone you love. Be happy for me, because I'll finally be able to hear them say that while pulling pranks with Sirius._'

Emma watched with amusement as her daughter began to blush so fiercely she could've cooked an egg on Hermione's face, not to mention the uncharacteristic giggle, but then all that colour drained out in a flash, leaving her daughter ghostly white.

All Emma could do is watch as her precious daughter finished reading the letter and then stared despondently at it. After several minutes of deathly silence, she tentatively asked, 'Is everything okay dear?'

There was no immediate reply passed the tensing up of her daughter's body.

'No,' Hermione whispered, the first tear breaking free and trickling down her face.

'What is it?' Emma asked, her instincts warning her of the impending complete and utter breakdown she hadn't had to face for years.

Crackles hummed in the background as the emotion seeped out of Hermione in a black fog akin to thundery clouds, shrouding her away as her chanting, 'No, no, no,' continued, quiet and broken. Her chocolate eyes were muddied into desolate orbs before her lids drooped, breaking the contact between them.

'Hermione, speak to us, please,' Emma begged, daring to move closer to her daughter, but stilled her hand when Dan tried and got a painful shock for his effort. Running out of theoretical options, she turned to the note left upon the table. Hastily she tore through it, only the seriousness of the situation preventing the ringing of wedding bells as she read the first, but then she came to the crux of the matter and couldn't help her own despondent, 'No…' as her mind's eye projected the little boy from years prior, so full of life with dazzling emerald eyes combined with the dozens of letters about him from her daughter.

In that instant she knew that the wound upon her daughter was deeper than any before, possibly too deep to fix, but by any God she could swear by, she would not give up on her daughter and that single purpose gave her strength she didn't know she had.

'Dan, get a blanket, sheet, anything to wrap her with,' she snapped, running over to the cupboard beneath the sink. He followed without questioning while she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, desperately hoping it would work. 'Hermione, sweetie,' she affectionately mumbled with a baseline of empathic fear behind it as she half-crouched. Her tentative hand approached her daughter, the miniature thunder staying true to nature and avoiding her. With a last movement, she touched her daughter's knee.

Immediately the magic recoiled, though still left her glittering darkly. 'He can't be gone,' Hermione distantly whispered. 'He can't be, he can't be, he can't be. No, not after everything, after trolls and basilisks and dragons, he can't be, he just can't be, he can't be, he can't be…' she continued, her voice fading into mouthing those three words over and over.

'Hermione,' Emma softly said, half-standing up and bringing a seat beneath herself before extending her other hand upon Hermione's other knee.

Hermione's lips stilled and eyes opened, staring straight into her mother's and Emma couldn't help the terror in her mind as her loving daughter's eyes looked so dead. 'Tell me it's not true, mummy, tell me I'm dreaming, that this is just a nightmare, a horrible nightmare that I'll wake up from and laugh about how silly it is to be afraid of a nightmare. Please, tell me it's not true, that it's a figment of my imagination, a twisted figment that I can forget forever. Please, please, please, please, it can't be true, it just can't, can it?' she asked in a child-like voice, a mixture of whine and despair with a subtle cracking.

Emma held back her own tears, because she knew she needed to be strong. Dan had entered while Hermione had talked and took the brief pause to slide the duvet behind and drape it over her shoulders, ending the ominous glow. With her own heart breaking as she did, Emma said, 'You're awake, Hermione, it's real,' and to prove it so she pinched her daughter's knee.

A pair of tears ran down Hermione's face before she flung herself forward, grabbing hold of her mother and pulling her tight as they stumbled to the floor, Dan's own half-catch half-fall preventing any injury beyond discomfort. Together, lying on the floor, Hermione sobbed pained tears into her mother's shoulder.

'It's not fair, it's not fair,' she cried, weakly beating against the floor and her mother's shoulder akin to a tantrum. 'Not him, he's always been so sweet and innocent and his life's been full of shit since he was two. It's not bloody fair!'

Gently, Emma continued rubbing her daughter's back, though she was surprised it took so long for Hermione to give up her policy on swearing considering the situation.

'His fucking uncle and cousin beat him, his aunt starved him, they made him live in a cupboard under the stairs and do all the cooking and cleaning and gardening and that was before he even got to school! They told him he was worthless and a freak and that his parents died because his dad was an alcoholic and drugged up and crashed the car one night!'

She could feel her husband tensing in rage, but all she could do was to alter the mental picture she had of that sweet little boy, adding in a bit of a limp, an aversion to eye-contact and a consciously kept distance between himself and the nearest person, flinching if they came too close.

'Then Hogwarts and it's not much better! He nearly got killed by a troll to save me; the person who killed his parents jinxed his broom; for fucks sake, he ended up killing a man! An eleven year old boy and he had to fight for his life! Then there was flying a car to school, a bloody enchanted bludger that was out for his blood, giant spiders the size of cars and, to top it all off, the king of snakes, a bastard of a basilisk that actually bit him! It's the fastest, most deadly venom known to the world and the fang was as big as his arm!'

Slowly, the life drained out of the little boy's eyes and his frame shrunk down, physically stronger yet appeared weaker.

'Oh then those stupid fucking dementors! I can't even imagine how he coped with hearing his parents die for an entire year and that's not even counting that he nearly got his soul sucked up by them three times. Then that stupid fucking tournament and he had to fly against a dragon and fight for his life in a stupid lake and then that stupid maze where he ended up watching Cedric die just like his parents while being used to resurrect the tosser who killed his parents. Then, last year, he spent hours being tortured by stupid Umbitch and her stupid blood quill and being bombarded by horrid nightmares from Voldemort and having his mind raped by the only person in the world who hates him more than Voldemort. And, and then, he got tricked into that battle and he… he lost Sirius and it's not fair, it's not fair at all.'

The little boy grew taller, though not as much as he should have, while his face grew darker and colder, much older than it should be. Messy black hair turned from cute to indifference in appearance and a weak rebellion against authority.

'But… He shouldn't have had to. He should have had a family, a loving family… Someone, anyone, should have told him they loved him…' Then, so quietly Emma had to wonder if she actually heard it, Hermione added, 'I should have told him I loved him…'

The dark teenager looked up, a lopsided grin on his face as Emma compared him to the actual Harry she had seen at the station barely a week prior. That Harry looked, not happy, but at least at peace. He looked as though he was comfortable around his friends and pleased to be with them. Definitely not like a boy, no man, who had taken more of a beating, literally and metaphorically, than most adults could take.

Slowly the sobbing died away, leading to minutes of silence. 'I've got to go,' she whispered, pushing herself up. 'I-I have to see for myself, I can't not.'

Before Emma or Dan could move, Hermione disappeared in a quiet pop, leaving both of them confused as she hadn't said she had taken the Apparition classes.


	4. Luna

Luna held the letter close to her chest as she walked inside, cuddling it tenderly. She rapped upon her father's door, adding a quiet call of, 'Daddy, we have a story to print.'

Patiently she waited, listening to the various bumps and groans and rustling fabrics as her father stumbled around in the darkened room. Eventually, the door creaked open and Xenophilius stood in all his psychedelic glory with a vibrant pink robe covered in bright blue, yellow and green bands and circles. 'Is it just me or has someone stolen the sun?' he asked after a yawn.

'I don't think so, but we'll have to wait until sunrise to see,' Luna replied, dragging her father along slightly. 'I'm awfully sorry to wake you up, but as I said we have a story to print and it is rather important.'

'Important you say? We haven't received another confirmed sighting of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, have we?' he asked with excitement in his voice.

Her steps faltered for a moment and she sadly replied, 'Harry Potter might be dead and so might He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'

'Harry Potter? Where have I heard that name before? Oh, he's that lovely chap, isn't he? The one who got us that wonderful exclusive? You mentioned him in your last dozen or so letters too, didn't you? You said he was your friend?'

'Yes daddy,' was her reply, though her voice was distant.

Silence reigned until he added, 'Awfully sad then, but what might be is not always what will have been.'

'I do hope so...'

Nothing more was said as they settled into the office from where the Quibbler was written and printed. She watched, unable to help for a change, as her father began warming up the equipment, as it would take several hours to warm up, and scribbling down ideas for headlines based on the three possible outcomes, as it wouldn't be much of a story if they had both lived or so he thought.

'You-Know-Who No More… no, no… Boy-Who-Lived now Man-Who-Didn't, no…' he murmured whilst fiddling with some cogs. 'Luna, dear, I don't suppose you could give me more of an idea of what occurred?'

'Harry created his own ritual and accidentally purposely invoked the Egyptian Gods of magic and death to pass judgement on You-Know-Who and offered his own life and seven of his most important items as a payment. If Harry has died and You-Know-Who has lived, then Harry has severely weakened him and ensured that he would be unable to return if he was killed again unlike last time.'

One of the springs popped up, sending a billow of steam floating towards the ceiling and setting off a coughing fit from Xeno. Once able to again, he replied, 'Good good, always good to have at least a positive… He-Who-Has-Been-Slain? Wrong image… Boy-Who-Gave-His-Life-For-Peace… no, no, Man-Who-, no, still not right… Saviour of the wizarding world once more and no more? Yes, that could work…'

Luna continued to do no more than watch as her father continue working. She stroked the envelope, desperately wishing for time to move oddly since the hours seemed to unusually drag on.

Eventually, it was time and she slowly tore it open, snatching up the parchments.

'_Dear Luna,_

'_This letter is the longest letter I'm sending out, mainly because I know you the least and in a lot of ways that's helpful to me. First of all though, and I will only say this once, __stand up for yourself__. You are wonderfully weird and eccentric and those stupid cows in Ravenclaw shouldn't treat you like crap, so don't let them. I know you say it doesn't bother you, but I won't accept that, because everyone, including you, wants to be loved._

'_That nicely brings me onto my next point: I love you. It's not in the romantic sense, though your radish earrings are rather radishing (terrible pun, I know), but as a younger sister. As an older brother, it's therefore my job to make sure that no one (who values their life) picks on you and that I intimidate any boyfriends into treating you with the utmost respect. I'm afraid I won't quite be able to do either of those jobs, for reasons I'll go into in a sec, but know that I've left the most capable (er, well, very capable – Hermione's got a few too many other things to do, so I couldn't ask more of her) people to do them for me._

'_Right, now onto the heart of the matter. I won't go into too much detail, but basically Voldemort split his soul into a load of different pieces and stored them in things. As long as one of the pieces still exists outside of his body, he'll just turn a weird ghost-like thing if he's killed and from there he can be resurrected (like at the Tri-wizard tournament) so we have to get rid of all of them to get rid of him first. There's a bit of a problem with that as there's a piece of his soul stuck in my head. To solve that, I'll have done a ritual by the time you got this letter._

'_I can't tell you much about it, since I'm kind of going with guesswork here, but I'm putting down a couple of runes and offering some of my stuff – that's pretty much what makes up a ritual, isn't it? Hopefully it'll take care of Voldemort, but if it doesn't then I've asked Dumbledore to. Oh, I'm kind of missing out the important bit: I'm offering my life as the centrepiece._

'_Er, yeah, not too sure where to go immediately from there. At best, I hope that I'll live (without the soul piece) and Voldemort dies, but at worst I'll just kick the bucket (not sure if wizards know that phrase actually, but it means I'll have died) and not helped at all in getting rid of him, other than getting rid of the soul piece in me._

'_Moving on from that, I really wanted to thank you for your help at the Ministry. I was stupid and reckless and all that crap, but all of you were amazing. Honestly, Luna, you were holding your own against some of the toughest bad guys around! You're a great friend, incredibly fun to be with and talk to and if no one else sees it then it's __their loss. Sure you sometimes talk about things no one else knows about, but for eleven years I didn't think magic existed and up until fourth-year I wouldn't have believed anyone (well, maybe Hermione, but she's nearly always right) if they told me such a thing as a Blast-Ended Skrewt existed, so why can't a Crumble-Horned Snorcack exist?_

'_Going back a bit, I've included you in my will. It's not much, but it turns out the Black's had a property in Sweden (a house on the beach) and Sirius made me his heir (found out a few days ago,) so to you it'll go. If you need any money for travelling to it or furnishing it or anything like that, ask the goblins as some of the Black money has been put aside for anything house-y that needs to be done._

'_Going back a bit further, I've entrusted Neville and Ron to take my place as your "big brother". Nev just needs a bit more confidence and, if you can (which, if I've read the signs correctly, then you definitely can,) you should help him with that. I've given him a bit of a push in the letter I sent to him, but if he doesn't stick his neck out on the line, don't go slightly crazy (like girls tend to, slight offence meant) and instead confront him about it. If there's one thing I could tell you, it would be to find happiness wherever you can and I truly believe you two could find it if you were both willing to risk it._

'_Going even further back, as I said, I probably know you the least out of any of the other "Ministry Six" (who most of the letters are going to, with a couple of others to some adults) and I wanted to fix that. So, tell me, what's your favourite flavour of ice-cream? If I had to guess, I would say chocolate with whole strawberries on a slice of watermelon and with grated cheese on top – I'm not sure why, but it fits. Mine's just plain old chocolate with vanilla swirls, but I'm boring like that. How about what you want to be when you grow up? I think you want to either write articles for the Quibbler or go search for new and exotic animals or maybe both, but you haven't told me that, so I wanted to make sure._

'_To tell you a bit more about me, I wasn't really hoping to have a job, rather stay at home and be a good house-husband, looking after the kids, doing a bit of cooking and gardening and all that. Even more boring, I know, but I'd like boring a lot after all the "excitement" I've been having at Hogwarts._

'_I'm stalling now. I… I had to tell someone and I chose you because I thought it would be easiest, but it's still bloody hard. Sirius… I didn't kill him. I know I didn't, but I am still one of the people responsible for his death. We had a two-way mirror so we could chat if we needed to, but I forgot about it – heck I even forgot about him a lot of the time. I was all he had left and, since I couldn't see him, I forgot about him. He was all alone in that crappy house, probably hoping he could talk to me, all the while I was whining about how horrible it was that Professor Umbitch was making me torture myself and that I was having nightmares._

'_Merlin, how did you guys put up with such a whiny ass all year? Siriusly (sorry) though, I was a right proper jerk, wasn't I? The least I could have done was put aside some time once a week to talk to him, but I couldn't even do that. I should've talked to him every day, helping him get over the pain he's been in all those years since that __night and getting to know the man who could have meant so much to me and did __mean so much to my parents. I was being a stupid kid though who couldn't see passed the end of my nose._

'_Well, since then, I have and it's not pretty. I can't live knowing that I will die eventually and the longer I put it off the more people Voldie can kill. If I'm lucky, I end it now before he gets a chance to start another reign of terror and, if not, then at least I did the only thing I could to prevent it. I don't know if you can understand that, but I guess it's a bit like when the twins pull a prank and McGonagall lines us all up and tells the culprit to come forward and we'll stand there until they do. Of course, the twins always own up right away, but if they didn't, everyone would suffer mild discomfort. Multiply that by a few million and that's where I am._

'_I've also been a bit of a twat to other people. For starters, you. It's hard to admit, but before I got to know you a little, I purposefully avoided being seen with you because of what other people might think of me. More than that, I knew you were being bullied and I did nothing. Both of those kill me to think about (erm, bad choice of words?) now that I'm less of a twat and I only wish there was something I could do to go back and fix it, but I can't so I'm apologising._

'_Neville too. He's always been who he is now, the quiet and shy but courageous boy. Well, I guess he's a man now and you'd have to be mad to disagree after seeing him shove his broken wand into a Death Eater's eye. Despite that, I pretty much ignored him in the first few even though I should've at least stuck up for him as a House-mate – who knows how much, well, better he would've been if Snape was too busy blaming everything wrong in the world on me rather than breathing down Nev's neck?_

'_Next up is Parvati. What was I thinking? Seriously, I was lucky enough to get a gorgeous witch at the last minute and I spend nearly the entire night discussing how much of a betrayer Hermione is with Ron? At least I had the sense to personally apologise to her after, but really, was I always that much of an idiot before my life really got screwed over?_

'_Unfortunately, the more people I think of, the more I have to say, "I was such an idiot," because I really didn't treat them properly. Nothing as big as what I've already mentioned, but things like copying homework off Hermione (at least I stopped going that second year.) Still, I can't go back and change myself, but I can admit that there was a problem._

'_Maybe that's the difference between being a child and being an adult, I don't know. I've never been very good at the whole philosophical things, but suddenly everything was very different when I looked at myself from where other people stood. Everyone has their problems, but the important thing is that they work to fix them, either alone or together, isn't that right?_

'_Well, I hope I've backed you into a corner now. After what we did, kicking Death Eater ass, there's gonna be a target on your back. I couldn't ask Hermione to give up Hogwarts, never, but I... I can ask you to try and convince her. Despite what she sometimes says, she does listen to you, but, well, her problem is that she finds it hard to trust without proof and evidence. Please, if possible, have her, Ron, Ginny and Nev __join you in Sweden until things settle down. It's hard enough for me to say goodbye, I can't say hello to you all again so soon._

'_So, where was I? Right, well, I was telling you about how much of an idiot I was. Of all my regrets, the biggest was that I let what people, who weren't my friends, thought affect me. I am so jealous and proud that you have remained completely true to yourself and it would be an amazing and wonderful world if everyone could be like that. I've already apologised, but I'll have to again, I'm sorry it took me over three years and the Hogwarts Spanish Inquisitioner (ask Hermione if you don't get the joke) to make us friends._

'_Finally, my dying request. If you will do but one thing I ask of you, then this is it: help the others. Of all of them, I think only you won't be completely distraught. I know it's not that you don't care, just that you, well, you know what it's like to lose a loved one and you can deal with your emotions a lot better than anyone I know._

'_Perhaps I'm not as good as understanding as you as I think, but, if I'm right, you don't need to be sad because I'm with those I love and I promise to tell your mum that you love her on your behalf. Not only that, but you understand that I couldn't be happy knowing that I could've helped._

'_So, please, help the others find whatever they can. I hope you all can make peace, but, well, it's a bit hard to be an optimist right now. Just, please, don't come see me for a long time._

'_Love your unofficial big brother, Harry "Just Harry" Potter._'

A tear-drop fell onto the letter, then another, but before the third, she whispered, 'Oh Harry.'

* * *

Short note: For those asking/wondering, I haven't decided if Harry lives or dies yet. I might chicken out and offering alternate endings or I might look at both and go with whichever one I can write better, I don't know and I'll probably only know when I get there.


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